In how many guises do we fly? Man within a bird's facade blesses a callow would-be deadly manufactured aviary, failures of body and mind when we finally stood up Man yet bird dreaming of vertiginous flight.

A world of phobic loops sounding the flaring of untamed stars, with stochastic harpoons piercing Athena's hi-tech shield harmlessly hissing as our "apehood's fire" parachutes down to a blushing Mars.

Wars begin in testicular mazes, gods drafting to suffer their pains as metaphors in their illusionary games.

Red-beaked, red-eared, from listening to mythologies, mystic flowers blooming in all directions petals flying fluttering ropes, a belt of inquisitive shells, bells, agravic shoes...

After the feast of recidivist blood, life biodegraded to molecular mud, only he will ascend, Kwahu Kachina—